


purely academic

by buhnebeest



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buhnebeest/pseuds/buhnebeest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t otherwise turn to greet him. She seems to be examining her face in the bathroom mirror, touching experimentally at her jaw, moving her eyebrows up and down, pursing her lips. There’s something strange about her interest in her reflection; Garrus has never known her to be vain, and she seems to be almost…clinical in her observation</p>
            </blockquote>





	purely academic

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [on my tumblr](http://buhne.tumblr.com/post/101489880138/shakarian-drabble).

The one perk of working with Cerberus – not ‘for’ Cerberus, as Shepard keeps repeating increasingly desperately – is that the Illusive Man seems to have established bases on even the most remote of planets. This comes in handy at times when Shepard leads them into a charge against a horde of husks and they end up covered in foul-smelling gunk: Garrus appreciates the possibility to hunker down and clean up between rounds.

Samara, who is too elegant to be covered in anything untoward, has graciously offered to keep watch. Garrus makes his way inside the compound restroom facilities to get rid of the goo dripping off his armor. And stumbles upon Shepard, staring at her own reflection in the mirror.  
  
Garrus pauses, lurching back to double check the symbol outside the door. It’s the little black stick figure humans like to use to distinguish between gendered bathrooms – the reason of which no human has been able to explain to him yet with any kind of logic –and he’s pretty sure it’s the right one.  
  
“Shepard?”  
  
Shepard hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t otherwise turn to greet him. She seems to be examining her face in the bathroom mirror, touching experimentally at her jaw, moving her eyebrows up and down, pursing her lips. There’s something strange about her interest in her reflection; Garrus has never known her to be vain, and she seems to be almost…clinical in her observation.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asks, leaning in the doorway.  
  
“Yeah, I’m just…” Shepard pokes at her cheek, the cracking, slowly-healing scar glowing a faint orange. “Trying to decide if I’m Frankenstein’s monster or more of a zombie.”  
  
Garrus frowns. “I’m not sure what either of those things are.”  
  
Shepard pulls at her lower lip, looking thoughtful. “A zombie is a bit like a husk, actually. It’s a reanimated corpse.”  
  
“Ah,” Garrus says. The more he learns about Earth, the less appealing it sounds. “And the monster?”  
  
“Dr. Frankenstein built his own human by sewing together the body parts of various corpses. Which he then brought to life.”  
  
Really unappealing.  
  
Garrus tugs at a mandible, trying to think of what to say. He’d thought that Shepard coming back to life had been nothing short of a miracle, but apparently the phenomenon is so common in human society they distinguish between _types_ of resurrection.  
  
“From what I understand, all of your parts are still you,” he offers finally. “Miranda says they didn’t try to change you in any way.”  
  
“So a zombie, then.”  
  
“I suppose so.”  
  
Shepard’s eyes in the mirror flick to him, face unreadable. “I don’t have the irresistible urge to eat your brain…”  
  
“That’s— good?” Garrus tries not to grimace, but apparently he’s not very successful: Shepard’s expression cracks into a grin, so at least he’s accomplished that.  
  
“Don’t worry, Garrus. If the mood strikes I’ll try to contain myself.”  
  
“I appreciate that, Shepard.”


End file.
